In October 2009, Gilbert O'Sullivan appeared in concert for the first time at the Royal Albert Hall, London. On Gilbert's request, I wrote this appreciation for the concert catalogue.

GILBERT: AN APPRECIATION

by Michael Feeney Callan

I have a clear remembrance of the first (and hopefully last) time I offended Gilbert O’Sullivan. We were discussing his songwriting and I misremembered a title (the song was We Will) and I saw the fleeting look of anguish in his face. It told me two things: that unconsciously I viewed his songs not in the singular but as a long, organic stream of work - like, say, Walt Whitman’s famous lifelong poem Leaves of Grass - and, more importantly, in terms of understanding the artist, that Gilbert’s devotion to his songs was paternal and individual, that he crafted every single one with love and cherished it.

Misinterpreting Gilbert O’Sullivan’s work has been, from time to time, a national pastime. In 2006 he released one of his most potent records in years, A Scruff at Heart. Its curatorial root - a signature interest in childhood, growth and social awareness that saturates all his work - was as strong as ever. But it came in a self-designed cd box that highlighted a controversial socio-political statement about equalising the rights of Palestinians with the ambitions of Israelis. Briefly, all hell broke loose, though Gilbert’s humanitarian stance has been consistent since, as far back as 1971’s Nothing Rhymed where he implored us all to think twice about moral duties to the poor as we ate “more than enough apple pie.” The great tragedy about such sensationalised over-reaction is the fact that it overshadowed the accomplishments of a triumphant work: songs like Take Your Foot Off My Toe, with a stunning sliding chord backing track that George Martin in his heyday would have been proud of (Gilbert self-produced), and the ingenious wordplay of Just So You Know that would have made Cole Porter green with envy.

An apparent hot potato issue with Gilbert (or Ray, as he is known to kith and kin) is the descriptive monicker so often appended to his name: singer-songwriter, a connotation, in the pop world, that suggests Billy Joel or Elton John. On 1997’s Singer Sowing Machine, the first album recorded at his now-in-daily-use purpose-built home studio in Jersey, he wryly mocked the phrase, revealing a resistance to imposed labels that underscores his fundamental obsession with originality and honesty. In the media, too easily it seems, Gilbert O’Sullivan is marked as contentious and rebellious because he wrestled for more than a decade with former manager Gordon Mills for equitable royalties and the restoration of his copyrights and, later, upended industry apathy by challenging a rap artist who “sampled” (read, “stole”) one of his songs. But the declaration of unshakeable independence - and being just plain different - was there from the start.